


Shut Up, Shawn

by anemptymargin



Category: Psych
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:11:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a drunken night to forget, Shawn lets his fantasy out to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up, Shawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a shippy fic. Please, don’t go into it expecting shippy Shawn/Lassie. That’s not how I roll. Many thanks to Missy, Becky, & Becca for doing the first reads and encouraging my messed up muse. Please read all warnings/tags before proceeding.

Lassiter wasn’t entirely sure when a beer at Tom Blair’s turned into a bottomless single malt but it was likely about the time Spencer and Guster showed up. Thankfully, they hadn’t seen him at the bar but he could still hear them – laughing, cracking jokes, and the incessant chatter about movies nobody watched in the 80’s let alone since then. A couple hours and two too many drinks later, he paid up his tab and stumbled out alone. With his coat turned against a late fall breeze, he hadn’t realized right away that he was being followed.

 

After three blocks, he wasn’t entirely sure if the weaving shadow was his own or some drunken asshole that thought he could rob him – but he was pretty sure he wasn’t alone. Past the fourth intersection, he ducked into a familiar alley and turned too fast – leaning against the wall of a bakery that had closed years previous as he grabbed for his follower.

 

“Spencer?” He grimaced, pushing the younger man away from him – sending him sprawling against a dumpster without much dignity to be had. “You’re following me.”

 

“I am.” Shawn flashed a smile that may have been innocent were he not three sheets to the wind. “Gus thought I should make sure you don’t meet up with any rogue tables like last time.”

 

“I don’t know or care what the hell you’re talking about. I’m not driving and I can walk from here.”

 

“C’mon – you live like a mile away. I’ll call for a cab.”

 

“It’s only a mile.” Carlton shrugged, lurching off the wall and back towards his usual foot route – Spencer could find his own way back to wherever he was squatting this month. He didn’t even make it a block before he heard the familiar shuffling steps again. “Mr. Spencer, have you been drinking?” He turned again as Shawn caught up to him, giving him an annoyed glare.

 

Shawn’s face screwed up in a confused frown. “Mr. Spencer is my dad.” Suddenly his lips twitched at the corners, a cocky half-smile overtaking his face. “I think you’re a lot more wasted than I am.”

 

“I’m fine.” Carlton shook his head, closing his eyes against the slight spin of the sidewalk as he took a few more hesitant steps. Somehow, he made it back to his house – stopping every few blocks to confirm that a drunken Shawn Spencer had indeed followed him home. Annoyed, he ended up at the front door and turned toward him again; “Get off my property.”

 

“Come on, I walked you home.” Shawn grinned, managing himself slowly up the walk. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in for coffee?”

 

“No.”

 

“Aww, come on.” He stumbled forward, making it to the door with a triumphant grin. “One cup of coffee to sober me up before I take a cab back to my place.”

 

Lassiter groaned and closed his eyes a long moment, fumbling for the keys in his pants pocket. “Fine.” He grunted; “Just one. And it’s instant.”

 

“That’s… totally fine.” Shawn followed him inside, violating his sanctuary yet again. “Wow… you haven’t changed… anything at all… since I was here last time.”

 

“You don’t change a classic, Spencer.” He dropped his keys, aiming for their hook and missing completely. Determined to play it off as though he’d meant for them to end up on the floor, Lassiter made his way towards the kitchen undaunted.

 

Shawn let out a strangled laugh, trailing a few long strides behind him.

 

After getting down a plain white mug, fishing a single serve packet of Folgers out of a drawer, and then turning on an electric kettle; Carlton asked; “What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing.” Shawn held back a giggle, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol and eyes glassy. “Nothing. At all.”

 

“Yeah. Whatever.” He shrugged, turning his back on him again to watch for the green light that signaled hot water was available.

 

A long moment passed between them, Shawn shifting restlessly from one foot to the other and scratching his head at irregular intervals until Carlton was pressing the hot mug into his hands. “You know, when you said that thing about changing a classic? That sounded just like something my dad would say.”

 

Carlton raised an eyebrow; he supposed it did sound a little like Henry’s usual opinion on things – a good opinion though. “Sometimes he has good ideas.”

 

Shawn groaned and took a deep drink. “Mmm, did you spike this?”

 

“No.” Carlton watched with further chagrin when Shawn managed to steady himself and sat on his kitchen counter.

 

“Would you?” He held out the cup with another one of his disgustingly smug grins.

 

He could have refused, probably should have, but another nip in the safety of his own home seemed like a decent enough idea. “Fine, but after you finish this you’re leaving.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Carlton retrieved the bottle of scotch from a high cupboard, it had been there long enough to collect a layer of dust – but seemed none the worse for wear. With somewhat bleary eyes, he poured and took a shot himself and then poured what was probably a double shot into the coffee before setting the bottle down beside his guest. “I’m gonna go to get ready for bed, Spencer. I would like you to be out of my house by the time I’m done.”

 

“Sure.” He grinned again, turning on the edge of the counter to watch as Lassiter paced back to his bedroom.

 

He probably should have seen it coming; sober he would have, without a doubt. Not five minutes after he’d stripped down to his shorts, Shawn’s silhouette swayed uneasily in his doorway. “Get out of my house, Spencer.” He groaned at the shadow, offering a slight compromise when he didn’t move. “Do you want me to call a cab for you?”

 

“No.” Shawn’s voice was unexpectedly small and the shadow lurched forward again, past the doorframe and into his room. “I think you need a nightcap to be ready for bed. Tonight. Now.”

 

“I’ve had enough.” He knew his limits, he’d already wake up with a screaming headache – the last thing he needed was to get stupid. He stood up from his bed, where he’d had his back turned to the door as he rubbed his own feet. “Give me the scotch.”

 

“As you wish.” Shawn grinned, his eyes half lidded. “But… I… really think…”

 

“I think you’re well over the legal limit and shouldn’t be thinking.”

 

“Oooh. I like that idea.” He whispered, leaning in suddenly close as Carlton took away the bottle and set it on the nightstand. He knew Spencer liked to get a little too physically affectionate, but as the younger man wrapped his arms around Lassiter’s bare middle and pulled him into a tight hug it was all he could do not to crawl out of his own skin.

 

“Christ, Spencer – get off.” He growled, pushing against Shawn’s shoulders.

 

Shawn echoed the growl, throwing his body weight into backing the larger man onto the bed. “I can do that.” He murmured, letting out another unexpectedly soft giggle. “But I think I may be a little over dressed for it.”

 

It took him a few seconds to register what was happening as the back of his knees caught the edge of his mattress, sending him down on his back with Shawn eagerly climbing on top of him. “Damn it, Shawn.”

 

Another sleepy grin as Shawn shook his head and snorted; “There you go again.”

 

“Stop it. You’re making an ass of yourself.”

 

“Mmmhmm.” Shawn murmured, crouching on all fours over Carlton’s torso, the older man’s feet still braced on the floor. With more than willing lips, he pressed drunken kisses against Carlton’s neck. “Can make an ass… of… your ass.”

 

“Is there a reason you think I want to have sex with you?” Carlton groaned, feeling the hot flush of physical response as teeth grazed his collar bone. Damn it. He really hoped Shawn hadn’t felt it, but of course he would have had to.

 

Shawn shifted his weight down against Carlton’s pelvis where it rested across the edge of the bed – feeling the prod of a potential hard on against his jeans before he felt himself starting to fall backward. Shockingly, Lassiter grabbed him by the t-shirt and yanked him forward. “You want me.” He grinned.

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Mmm.” The smug bastard’s smile spread even wider, reeking of scotch and beer and something deeply dirty and wrong. “Then why do you want to fuck me?”

 

“Because I don’t.” He replied curtly, eyes narrowed to slits. He should have knocked him over, kicked him out, maybe even called someone to come pick him up – but he only laid there with Spencer holding him down.

 

Grinding his ass down against the entirely too obvious shift in Carlton’s boxers, Shawn teased; “Because you totally do. And it’s okay, because we’re too drunk to remember any of this.”

 

He wanted to sneer, but instead felt it slipping into a grin. “Fine. You know what? We won’t remember. None of this ever happened.”

 

“Yeah.” Shawn grinned wider, rocking against him once more before pushing in for a kiss – only to get taken off guard by Lassiter taking charge – rolling him onto his back in the center of the bed – pinning him at the shoulders and making him seem very small in comparison. “Yeah?” He repeated, the grin slipping with drunken confusion. Sober, he would have known the look on Carlton’s face – things had definitely shifted somewhere… maybe for the better. He wasn’t surprised when the older man’s boxers hit the floor.

 

“Shut up, Shawn.” Carlton muttered, the name sounding foreign and yet familiar off his own lips. He pressed down hard on the smaller man’s shoulders, only holding him there for a minute as he tried to figure out just what the hell he was doing and maybe even why.

 

“Mmm, Big Daddy Carlton.” Shawn groaned, his previous confusion clearing when he saw the pink flesh of Lassiter’s tongue wetting his lips. “Come on, you know you want it. Take it.”

 

“Shawn…” He repeated quietly, feeling Shawn shift under him – hands pressing together as he popped open the fly of his jeans and then tried to struggle out of them.

 

“Shh…” Shawn lifted a finger to Lassiter’s lips, closing his eyes after he’d managed to tug open his own fly and was trying to wriggle out of his jeans and boxers when Carlton pushed in tighter against him. “I won’t tell.”

 

It was crazy, and quite possibly the stupidest decision he’d made in at least a decade. But damn if the unfamiliar fingers closing around his traitorous cock didn’t feel really, really good. “You better not.” He muttered, allowing himself to gently push into Shawn’s hand, rewarded with the tight grip and slide of his fist.

 

“Nu-uh.” Shawn groaned, angling Carlton’s slow thrusts against his aching hard on – the thin cotton of his undershorts the only barrier between them. “Promise, Daddy.”

 

“Don’t…” Carlton almost protested the awkward role Shawn was forcing on him, but felt his head swim again when Shawn let go of his length and pushed down the front of his boxers – allowing them to go skin to skin. “Oh god…” He groaned low and loud, not even realizing he’d picked up the pace significantly – stroking himself against the underside of the brat’s belly. “Spencer…”

 

“Shawn.” Shawn groaned, lifting his hips up into each dig. “Please…”

 

Carlton let out another rumbling groan, already feeling the slight slickness of his arousal between them. “What are we doing?”

 

The younger man opened his thighs wider, pushing up against Lassiter as he was let up from the mattress. “You’re teaching me a lesson.” He chuckled, nuzzling close enough to press a kiss against Carlton’s stubbly jaw. “About how to… take it.”

 

“Mmm… you like that, Shawn? Being taught a lesson?” It seemed… out of character for him. If anything he was the sort to rebel against authority teaching him anything at all. Taking the questionable lead, he pushed himself lower – dragging his cock over the slight cleft.

 

Shawn moaned, letting himself arch back down against the mattress – rolling onto his belly before propping up on his knees to fully display himself, his jeans and boxers knotted at his knees. “I’ve learned a little already.” He chuckled, almost sounding nervous, as he spread himself open. “I can take it. I’m a big boy.”

 

“You are.” Carlton smiled, letting himself slip fully into the moment – why not, he was drunk enough. He could, and would, easily claim total ignorance. “I think you’ve been very busy… Shawn…” he ran his thumb over the exposed opening, somewhat amused at how easy it was to push inside him – eliciting only a frustrated groan from Shawn.

 

“Please…” He pleaded, burying his face into the blanket as the thumb became two uneasy fingers – slowly stretching him. “Just… in…”

 

“Such a brat.” Carlton murmured, withdrawing his fingers and wiping them across Shawn’s hip before positioning the tip of his cock. “Sure you can handle it?”

 

“Mmmhmm.” Shawn moaned, nodding against the mattress. He let out another long, shaky moan as he was penetrated. “Big…” He groaned, “Fuck…”

 

“You know, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” Carlton shook his head, gripping both hands hard at Shawn’s hips as he settled into a slow, hard rhythm – holding on for dear life and trying not to fall off the edge of his own bed in the process. It had been a while, but not that long. “You shouldn’t swear like that.”

 

“Yes, Daddy…” Shawn groaned even louder, eyes closed tight against the sensation as Lassiter drove him even harder against the mattress.

 

The room was spinning, his head was spinning – everything was really, really wrong. Carlton grunted as he forced himself to keep pace, as hard as he could handle. Alcohol and lust kicking in, he leaned in against Shawn’s back as he fucked him – eventually letting his weight hold the smaller man down against the bed as it squeaked and squealed in protest to their coupling. “Yeah.” He growled, the predator in Shawn’s twisted drunken fantasy almost as much as the man that hadn’t had an orgasm that didn’t involve spending too long in the shower before work in five years. “You like that.” A statement now, no longer a question as Shawn’s impassioned cries would attest to.

 

Bucking back against him as best he could, Shawn turned his head and groaned; “Uh-huh… God yes… more…”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Carlton replied, his voice ragged as he felt himself dangerously close. “I’ll do whatever I want to you.”

 

“Yes.” Shawn moaned, “Please, Daddy… just a little more… please.”

 

It was the begging, that tone – he really, actually wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted to get him off. “Good boy.” He panted, giving several exceptionally hard thrusts as he felt his sac tighten and throb. “You want it?”

 

“Yes…” He hissed, swallowing hard when he felt Carlton’s strong hand gently squeezing the back of his neck, possessive and dominant. “Mmmhmm…”

 

The final whine, high pitched and needy, drove him over the edge – his fingers digging into the skin no doubt hard enough to mark as his eager grunting gave way to a low and heady moan. Panting and dizzy, his entire body throbbed as he unloaded himself inside his cohort. “So good…”

 

Shawn whimpered again, mewling and grinding back against the sensations – pushing his ass up once more when Carlton rolled off of him and laid out on the bed, spent. Without dignity, or really even care, Shawn stroked himself hard and fast; “I was a good boy?”

 

“Yeah.” Carlton groaned, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat immediately post-coitus. “Come on, finish it.”

 

“But…”

 

“Don’t get it on my bed.” It was cruel, and he even knew it – but he hadn’t asked for Spencer to follow him home, let alone make him some perverse player in his twisted little mind.

 

Shawn slid off the bed and onto unsteady feet, “I’m sorry, Daddy…” He muttered quietly, sinking to his knees on the soft beige carpet as he continued to stroke himself. “I just… I need…”

 

“Do it.” Carlton sat up, watching him with some degree of fascination. Shawn sat back on his heels, bracing himself with his weak hand for what seemed like an age before slowly curling back in on himself, pressing his forehead against Carlton’s knees as he finally came – shuddering and whimpering to the point of a near sob. “Good boy, Shawn.” He reached down, gently patting him on the head, almost affectionately.

 

“Good?” He looked up with a dazed grin – clearly starting to come back around in the heat of their lust.

 

He almost answered, but instead decided the game was over. It was late, and he wanted to try his best to not remember what had just happened. “There’s a Taco Bell two blocks east and then one block north. Think you can get there?”

 

Confused, Shawn nodded. “Yeah, you want a 7-Layer?”

 

“I want you to call someone to come pick you up, because you are far too drunk to be out by yourself.”

 

Shawn hesitated, and then nodded. He struggled to his feet and managed to tug up his clothing, wiping himself off on the inside of his own boxers before hiding it behind the zipper of his jeans. “Yeah… I guess it’s late…”

 

“This never happened.” Carlton groaned, turning to get up on the opposite side of the bed. A shower and a couple more nips at the bottle were definitely in order. “If you so much as suggest it did… let alone ever try this again…”

 

“No, of course not.” Shawn shook his head – even as far as he was from sobriety Carlton had made himself crystal clear. “I wouldn’t… I mean, that’s just…”

 

“We were drunk and stupid.”

 

“Yeah.” Shawn lowered his head, padding across the room to where he’d taken his shoes off in the kitchen, stepping into them without tying the laces. Carlton didn’t follow.

 

***

 

He walked slowly, doubting if what had even happened really had actually happened – or if it had all be some twisted dream and he wouldn’t wake up back in the alley next to the dumpster by the bakery. It wasn’t horrible or anything, just… well, pretty fucking weird. He’d had his fair share of the walk of shame – but barely able to stand up straight as he tried to stay off well tended lawns on his way to Taco Bell after calling Carlton Lassiter ‘Daddy’ hit high on his weird list.

 

From the parking lot, after obtaining a burrito and some Mountain Dew, he called Gus first. No luck, he was probably angry that it had taken so long and figured Shawn had just gone home. Making sure Lassiter got home okay really had been Gus’ idea.

 

Hesitant, he considered his options. Really, after eleven a cab was the next best option – but after a late pseudo-supper he had all of five bucks to his name. Hating himself just a little, he speed dialed the only other person who answered their phone and wouldn’t be even more embarrassing to call reeking of scotch, sex, and shame.

 

 _“There had better be a damn good reason you’re calling this late.”_

“Uh, yeah… dad… listen, I’m kind of really drunk and Gus won’t come get me…”

 

Henry groaned loudly. _“Where are you, Shawn?”_

 

“Taco Bell. It’s kind of over by where that park is by Detective Lassiter’s house, you remember, right? Like you cross over the bridge and…”

 

 _“Shut up, Shawn.”_

 

“Yes Daddy. I mean… Dad. I mean… please come get me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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